Chapter 63: Afraid
The training ring that sits at the edge of the property is some kind of fever dream someone had after watching too many underground fighting movies and deciding the aesthetic needed more pine trees.
When I first saw this place, I was too busy taking in the man meat inside it to really pay attention. In front of me is what I can only describe as a mini sumo ring on steroids, a massive dirt clearing surrounded by a circle of pine trunks that have been sunk deep into the earth, each one thick as my torso and stripped of bark until they’re smooth and pale.
Between the trunks, thick netted fencing stretches upward, creating an enclosed space that’s rustic and vaguely threatening. Fight club chic but make it mountain lodge.
The dirt inside the ring has been packed down hard from what I assume are countless training sessions, and the whole thing smells like earth and pine sap and something wilder. My wolf stirs at the scent, recognising something in it that my human brain hasn’t caught up to yet.
Afternoon sun filters through the surrounding trees, casting dappled shadows across the clearing, and somewhere nearby I can hear water running over rocks. It’s beautiful in that raw, untamed way that everything about this place seems to be. Beautiful and slightly terrifying, which pretty much sums up my entire experience with the supernatural world so far.
I stand at the edge of the ring, my hands shoved into the pockets of the athletic shorts someone left on my bed this morning along with a sports bra and a tank top that I’m assuming are shifting-appropriate attire.
The clothes are comfortable and practical, which makes sense given that I’m apparently about to attempt something that will either result in me transforming into a wolf or having a complete psychological breakdown in front of two of my mates. The odds feel about fifty-fifty at this point.
My stomach is doing complicated acrobatic routines that would impress Olympic gymnasts, and my palms are sweating despite the cool mountain air. I’ve been training with Vaela for three weeks now, learning about pack dynamics and wolf politics and the approximately seven thousand ways I can accidentally insult someone at a council meeting, but we haven’t touched shifting properly. She said it was best to be home for this part, needed to be with my pack, and now I understand why.
This isn’t something you learn from a textbook or a lecture. This is visceral and primal and deeply personal, and the thought of attempting it makes every nerve ending in my body light up with a combination of anticipation and absolute terror.
"You planning to stand there all day, or are you actually going to come in?" Jax’s voice carries across the clearing, warm and teasing.
I look up to find him already inside the ring, leaning against one of the pine trunks with his arms crossed over his massive chest. His blonde mullet catches the sunlight, giving him the look of eighties rock star who accidentally wandered into a supernatural romance novel and decided to stay.
He’s wearing nothing but a pair of loose athletic pants that hang low on his hips, and his entire torso is on display, all those ridiculously huge muscles and golden skin that seems to glow in the afternoon light. The grin on his face is pure mischief, the kind of expression that makes me want to simultaneously kiss him and punch him, which is pretty much my default state around Jax.
He radiates golden retriever energy even when he’s standing still, all enthusiasm and warmth and barely contained excitement, and right now that energy is focused entirely on me.
"I’m strategising," I call back, not moving from my spot. "It’s called mental preparation. You should try it sometime."
"Mental preparation," he repeats, his grin widening. "Is that what we’re calling shitting yourself now?"
"I’m not afraid," I lie, and even I can hear how unconvincing it sounds. "I’m just... assessing the situation."
"The situation being a dirt ring and your incredibly patient and devastatingly handsome mate who’s waiting to teach you something amazing?" Jax pushes off the trunk and walks toward me with that easy, confident stride that makes it clear he’s completely comfortable in his body and his power. "Yeah, that’s a real threatening situation. I can see why you’d need to assess it from a safe distance."
I flip him off, which only makes him laugh, and finally force my feet to move.
The moment I step into the ring, the air around me shifts. It’s subtle but unmistakable, a change in pressure, a heightening of awareness, as if the space itself is alive and paying attention. My wolf perks up, more alert than she’s been in days, and I feel her pressing against the inside of my skin trying to get closer to something she recognises.
The sensation’s as comforting as it’s deeply unsettling, and I have to resist the urge to turn around and walk right back out. Jax is watching me with those warm eyes, and his expression’s softer than his teasing words. He understands exactly how I’m feeling and isn’t going to let me run away from this.
"There she is," he says when I reach the centre of the ring, and his voice has lost some of its teasing edge. "Knew you’d show up eventually. You’re too stubborn not to."
"Stubbornness is one of my most attractive qualities," I mutter, and he laughs again, reaching out to tug gently on a strand of my hair.
"It really is," he agrees, and then his expression shifts into something more serious. "Okay, so here’s the thing about shifting. It’s not actually that complicated once you get past the mental blocks. Your body knows what to do. Your wolf knows what to do. The only thing getting in the way is your human brain trying to logic its way through something that isn’t logical."
"That’s incredibly unhelpful," I tell him. "My human brain is kind of my whole thing. I can’t just turn it off."
"You don’t have to turn it off," Jax says patiently. "You just have to stop letting it be in charge for a minute. Let your wolf drive. She knows the way."
I want to argue with him, want to point out that letting go of control is literally the opposite of everything I’ve spent my entire life learning to do, but before I can open my mouth, another voice cuts through the clearing. Deep and rough and carrying the authority that makes my spine straighten automatically.
"She’s too afraid."
